I Just Wanna See You (Be Brave)
by ThomE.Gemcity-06
Summary: COMPANION to: "Let The Words Fall Out" [SPIDER-MAN: HOMECOMING/CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR] Spider-Man is requested, Peter get's tapped for his Stark Internship. Talks are had, connections made, truths revealed, hugs are bountiful.


**Companion to "LET THE WORDS FALL OUT"**

**a/n: Title from the song **_**Brave **_**by Sara Bareilles. This story follows after "**_**Let the Words Fall Out".**_** So, this will be WAY more diverged from the film "Homingcoming" than "**_**Let the Words Fall Out"**_** was to "Civil War" as that was some alterations on a couple scenes. The bold and centered are quotes from the movie and act as page-breaks. **

**Summary: **_Spider-Man is requested, Peter get's tapped for his Stark Internship. Talks are had, connections made, truths revealed, hugs are bountiful._

**[SPIDER-MAN: HOMECOMING]**

* * *

**I Just Wanna See You (Be Brave)**

**#**  
**"As walnut date loafs go, that wasn't bad."**  
**#**

Peter felt his stomach flip with excitement and anxiety as he spotted the sleek, black town car park at the curb on his street on the way home from school, but he quashed it and continued on his way to the apartment a little more subdued.

_Get over it, he doesn't have time for you, why should he, he's not your dad_, Peter told himself. Yet, for the past two months he still continued to call and update Mr Stark on his patrol of the neighbourhood, even just his day. Mr Stark never picked up or called back. Two weeks into the process, he was transferred to Happy's voicemail, sometimes it was neither and Peter got to chat with Mr Stark's super cool, super smart, AI FRIDAY. She was nice and talked to him, not sounding put-upon like the few times Happy actually answered to tell him to "Get more friends. You have too much time on your hands to be calling this much, kid."

_'You listen to everything Happy says as if the words are from mine own lips, got it?'_

Peter sighed, head down as he used his key to let himself into the apartment. He knew he was being annoying and talked too much but after everything that had happened in Germany, Peter just wanted Mr Stark to know that he was there for him, had his back—even if he was just some kid.

"Peter," Aunt May called.

"I'm not very hungry, Aunt May." Peter called back, heading straight through the kitchenette toward his bedroom. "I'm just gonna go to my room."

"Oh," he could instantly hear the worry in her tone and stopped as she came from the living room, stopping him in the hall. "Are you feeling okay?" May instantly put a hand to his forehead.

"I'm alright," Peter promised. "Just tired." Which was true. He also knew he was hungry even if he didn't have the appetite. His body had been using a lot of involuntary calories lately, along with his sleep, put that together with his almost nightly Spider-Man night watch routine and he should know better, but right now he really just wanted to be alone.

Peter jumped a little when the bathroom door suddenly opened to reveal an unexpected houseguest.

"You can nap in the car."

Peter gapped at the sight of Happy Hogan in his hallway. "Happy?! What are you doing here? Is Mr Stark okay?" he asked instantly and rapidly.

Happy gave him a certain look. "Mr Stark's fine."

Peter gave a sigh of relief. "That's good. Did you just stop in to use the washroom?"

"Just waiting on you, kid. Your Aunt was kind enough to serve tea and date loaf while we were waiting."

"Oh," Peter bit the inside of his cheek with understanding and shot a glance at May. "Is this because I've been calling too much? I'll-I'll stop. I know Mr Stark's busy, I just thought- w-" he gave his head a shake. "I'm sorry. Tell Mr Stark I'm sorry? I'll stop..." he trailed off quietly.

"Peter," May said gently. She took the book bag from his shoulder and leaned it against the wall before wrapping an arm around his slumped shoulders and led his to the couch. "That's not what this is about."

"It's not?"

Aunt May shook her head. "It's not," she assured. "You should eat something." May cut a slice from the date loaf on the coffee table and put the plate in his lap.

Peter automatically started eating, relieved to note that it wasn't the same loaf she'd served Mr Stark at least; he liked the crunch of the walnuts better than the tang of orange zest though. He understood the quickly concealed look on Happy's face but Peter had been eating Aunt May's eccentric cooking for years and ever since he'd gotten bitten—he wouldn't say he was immune to the hazardous bodily responses one had to any one meal—but that he'd grown even more tolerant. His body needed the calories and he'd thankfully never been a picky eater anyway.

"You're going to be staying with Mr Stark for the weekend. Mr Hogan's here to drive you."

Peter choked on his food. "What?"

"Swallow, sweetie."

Peter tried, the dry loaf getting lodged in his throat. May quickly handed him her teacup. He quickly gulped it down. "What?" he squeaked, face flushed.

"He called about a project for your internship." May glanced over his shoulder at Happy. "I know it's last minute but it's perfect timing. I was selected last minute to attend a nursing conference in Ohio for the weekend, so now I don't have to call a babysitter."

"Aunt May!" he protested, ducking his head in embarrassment. He was 15! But May never actually paid for a 'babysitter', he typically just had a sleepover at Ned's in situations like these.

"Come on, kid." Happy clapped, making May jump a little, his Spidey-Sense, too. "Go pack your underoos, I don't have all day and you don't want to keep Mr Stark waiting, do you?"

"No."

"Oh!" May managed to quickly grab the plate and teacup from his lap as he jumped up and hopped over the back of the couch and dashed to his bedroom. "Peter!" she sighed.

"Sorry!" Peter snatched up his backpack on the way.

May turned to Happy. "He's not normally like this, I promise, just when he's excited or anxious. Everything went fine in Germany, right, I don't have to worry about the two of them being _here_, do I?"

Happy wasn't sure how to answer that one.

Peter quickly filled his duffle with the clothes hanging in his closet nook and from the storage shelf. He set his backpack on his desk chair, and grabbed his schematic's binder from the drawer of his 'tech lab' and put it with his homework. He made sure he had the Spidey Suit, his web shooters, and put another side project he was currently fiddling with on sleepless nights when he didn't go out and patrol Queens for the night in the bag. Peter practically skipped out of his bedroom to the living room with his bags.

"Have a fun weekend, sweetie, and be safe." Aunt May hugged him tight and smooched his forehead. "I love you."

"I love you, Aunt May. Try not to have too much fun at your conference."

**#**  
**"My gosh, uh, wanted to tell you what an incredible job your nephew did this weekend at the Stark Internship retreat. Everyone was impressed."**  
**#**

Happy dropped him off in the private, below level parking garage at Stark Tower. Peter would have worried what he was supposed to do now, but got distracted by the incredibly awesome, extremely expensive array of sport cars that lined the space. Mouth agape slightly, he reached out toward the hood of the orange, Saleen S7 hood.

"Hello, Peter."

Peter withdrew his hand. "Hi, FRIDAY! How are you?"

"Everything is running smoothly. How are you this evening?" The elevator doors slid open.

Peter crossed the garage to the open car. "I'm good, FRI. Aunt May said that Mr Stark wanted me to work on a project with him." He told her excitedly as the doors closed around him. "I get to spend the weekend!"

"Going up."

"I thought the Stark Internship was just a cover Mr Stark made up so he could take me to Germany. I didn't think it was real." Peter admitted, a little more subdued. "Are you sure Mr Stark wanted me? This sounds like something Ms Potts w-would make him do."

"Mr Stark demanded you for himself, Little Boss." Her dulcet accented voice assured him.

Peter sagged against the elevator wall in flushed relief. "I just don't want to mess this up."

"You won't." The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. FRIDAY guided him down the hallway.

Peter's bags slid off his shoulders and dropped to the floor, just like his jaw as the glass doors glided open before him to reveal Mr Stark's lab and it was beyond anything the Spiderling had before seen. His experience came from the small compass of the labs at his high school, _this_ lab left those in the stone age.

"Go on," FRIDAY encouraged him like shy toddler.

Peter stumbled over the threshold like one too. It was quiet but it wasn't, he could feel the vibration in his skin. He didn't know where to look first. Where to start. He had to hug himself tightly to stop himself from reaching out, touching, as he picked his way carefully through the lab and all of Mr Stark's projects. "Where's Mr Stark?" he wondered aloud.

"Boss is just finishing up with a delivery, he'll be up shortly."

The anticipation was going to kill him, wondering what they were going to be working on.

Peter stopped at one of the tables, staring down at what appeared to be a common place pair of Mr Stark's tinted glasses (which weren't 'ordinary to begin with), and realized they were just a lot more than that, with the screens and machines surrounding it, the docking station it sat on. "Is that-?"

"BARF,"

"Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing," Peter murmured. He leaned close, twitching fingers buried in his armpits.

Peter had watched the live-stream of Mr Stark's presentation at MIT on the website. That presentation was two days before the bombing at the UN, five days before the airport fight coined the 'Civil War' by social media and news outlets around the world. Mr Stark had relived his last moments with his parents and was then confronted by the truth of their death, hidden by his supposed friend, Captain America. Peter hadn't seen or heard from Mr Stark since he'd been dropped off at the curb in front of his apartment building two months ago, yet five times a week for the same two months, he watched video after video of Captain America PSAs on physical education, sex ed., health safety, obeying the law and Peter had to stop himself from webbing the carted television and hurling it out the window. Every time he'd be reminded of Mr Stark's face when the truth was discovered and how useless he'd been to protect his mentor, so he'd skip his bedtime and patrolled as Spider-Man, hoping to make up for it there.

"Looks like my pre-ordered teenager has finally arrived, already pre-programmed with leaving his junk in the middle of the floor," Tony quipped as the lab doors slid open before him, opting to step over Peter's bags instead of shoeing them out of the way like a semi-responsible parent and prevent a future accident because he wasn't the kid's dad; it was a sound reason.

"As demanded, Boss." FRIDAY chirped, sounding proud.

"Mr Stark!" Peter exclaimed, popping up on the other side of the lab, yet what felt like a few second later, had the excitable teenager skidding into his arms with a bright smile, a warm, pleasant weight against his chest as Peter hugged him. "I'm so happy and excited to be here. You're lab is awesome, Mr Stark!" he babbled, his words coming muffled where it was pressed against Tony's chest. "I know there's probably, like, a lot more people qualified so thank you for thinking of me!"

This wasn't the first hug Peter had given him, by far. The Spiderling's hugs almost doubled the days Tony had actually spent with the kid. First in his suit of armour at the Leipzig Airport; twice back at the hotel, then in the car when he was dropped back home to his oblivious, hot Aunt; and this made five. Tony didn't get Peter's proclivity for hugging him. Peter had known Happy just as long, technically even spent _more_ time in the bodyguard slash driver's presence and yet, Happy's arms always remained suspiciously empty of any Spiderlings. But getting a look at the grouchy man's resting face, Tony couldn't blame the kid, Tony was 1000% more approachable.

"Sure, kid." Mr Stark patted him on the shoulder, prompting his release.

"How are you, Mr Stark?" Though there was still the nervous, excited energy buzzing in his chest, Peter's question genuine, if a little solemn.

"Fine, Peter." Tony ruffled his hair as distraction to dissuade him from the touchy line of questioning. Peter may have been a little slow to duck out from the gesture.

"So, what project are we working on?" Peter asked him obligingly, patting his hair back down.

"By the request of your presence, Three's Company. Just waiting for our test subject to get his ass up here."

Peter looked at him just a bit horrified. "We're experimenting on someone?!"

Tony laid a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, it was just a figure of speech. I was only joking." Peter exhaled in relief and nodded. The doors slid open behind Mr Stark. "Speaking of Robo Arm, it's about time!" Tony turned around. "Did you get lost in the twenty feet from the elevator? You shoulda asked FRIDAY to hold your hand down the hall."

"You told me to wait five minutes so you could tell him."

Peter stepped around from behind Mr Stark and he gaped. "Sergeant Barnes?!" there was surprise (no surprise), maybe more excitement and happiness, and a bit of wariness, definite confusion. But his Spidey-Sense wasn't warning him and Bucky was dressed in civilian clothing, not his Winter Soldier combat leather. A side glance at Mr Stark showed that he obviously wasn't surprised and alarmed at the arrival, but Peter could still see the faint lines of sadness and sorrow that he hid so well (Peter still saw it in his own reflection sometimes, but it always caught him off-guard), but it wasn't as powerful and as raw as it had been at the airport. There was anger, too, resentment, but Peter knew it wasn't directed at Bucky. HYDRA, Captain America, but not Sergeant Barnes. "What are you doing here? I don't understand." Peter confessed his overwhelming confusion.

Guarded grey eyes flickered to Mr Stark. "So, you didn't tell 'im."

"I was getting to it."

"Maybe you can tell me now?" Peter asked, gaze darting between the two men.

"BARF, you know it?"

Peter nodded. "Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing,"

Tony nodded, a tiny smile quirking at the corner of his lips briefly before falling away. "If you know that little mouthful, then you should know that I created it to come to terms with traumatic events." He strolled passed the teen into the lab, Spider-Man and Winter Soldier followed him obligingly. Tony traced him fingers over the frame of the glasses where they sat in their docking station before withdrawing them and looking back at Peter. "Well, we're gonna use them on Barnes, here. See if we can't muck out the rest of that pesky HYDRA programming, fill in some holes in that Swiss cheese memory, give him some piece of mind and eventually get him back to a functioning member of society." He declared.

"That's good," Peter glanced behind him at Bucky, who stood at least five feet back, still, shoulders tense, arms straight down at his sides, fingers forced lax, his lips a firm line, he eyes stood out in stark, active contrast, watching, waiting. "But why am I here? Why do you need my help?"

Mr Stark exhaled and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "These sessions can be rough, especially at first, trust me on that. I suggested he bring a buddy for moral support, someone he could trust."

"I asked for you, Spider-Man." Bucky spoke, low.

Peter stared. "_Me_?" something warm but also heavy settled in his chest. Responsibility.

"I hope that's okay?" Bucky said, almost shy. "You didn't owe me anything, I was your enemy. You weren't trying to harm me or Wilson, you even protected us. You listened and believed when you had no reason to. You defused a ticking time bomb. If Steve had gotten his way..." he shook his head. "I don't even want to know what might have gone down instead."

"Thank you," Peter didn't know what else he could say, could express how that made him feel. His body, on the other hand. He twitched forward but managed to abort and teetered awkwardly for a moment before straightening.

Bucky's brows crinkled slightly. "What was that?"

"Nothing!" Peter said instantly, tucking his hands under his armpits.

Bucky glanced over Peter's head at Tony, who had a smirk stretching into a splitting grin. "Nothing?" Tony chuckled in amusement as the teen squirmed. "You were gonna hug him, weren't you, Petey?"

"No!" Peter denied, but his flaming face thwarted the claim.

"Uh-huh, sure." Tony nodded. "I guess it was a good thing that you weren't, otherwise he might have karate-chopped you out of pure reflex like a skittish fawn with ninja skills." That was exactly why Peter had managed to stop himself; for the last seventy years, all the touch Bucky had know was that of HYDRA and HYDRA didn't seem the type to hand out any sort of affection, so with any sort of surprise touch, Bucky could only react to it instinctively. Violently. "How about we get started, children?"

**#**  
**"I know it's really hard to fit in with all the changes your body's going through. It's flowering now."**  
**#**

Peter lay in a bed as big as his bedroom, in a guest suite in the Tower. The room and its en suite were like its own apartment. He wondered if any of the other Avengers had lived in this room while it had been the Avengers Tower before it had been converted back to Stark Tower, but if it had, it had been wiped clean of any traces with the Avengers being moved to a new Compound Upstate with the passing of the Accords.

He was waiting to fall asleep, and while some of it was because he was in a new place, in a strange bed, most of it was the BARF session from earlier—or should he say session_s_? Mr Stark had been right about it being rough; being a POW for seventy years, tortured, brainwashed, frozen, in an endless cycle, there was no memory to ease Bucky into the how the device worked, operated, get a feel for it. It was zero to one million, the memory rendered all around them via holographic imaging, pulling from Bucky's razed mind his tormentors and nightmares. There was no dipping your toe in, and when The Chair materialized in the center of the cleared lab area in 4-D, the first reactions were only to be expected.

Peter liked the Behind-the-Scenes, the-Making-Of Special Features on horror movie DVDs than the actual movies, to watch exactly how practical and digital special effects were combined with actors' brilliant performance, the precise cut of camera work of the directors vision. He always found it interesting to see the inner workings. But no matter how many horror movies he watched, nothing could have prepared him for a live, in-studio look at the horrors of the Winter Soldier. Nothing he'd seen as Peter Parker, nothing he had experienced as Spider-Man could have prepared him for it. He didn't think any of them were. They had to stop several times, take a break, before coming back.

Being brave meant acting despite fear. Bucky trusted him, asked for his help, so despite how afraid Peter had been, he pushed his own aside and focused on a way to help Bucky; whether by being a friendly, steady presence, or talking back from a episode, even webbing him so he didn't end up hurting himself or Mr Stark.

To say it left them all exhausted, both physically and emotionally was a correct statement, so after it grew dark outside, Mr Stark called it quits for the night. They all went their separate ways to process and gather themselves before FRIDAY guided him to the common area at the prompting of his grumbling stomach. Mr Stark had FRIDAY order a few pizzas, Bucky came out of hiding and they ended up on the couch, Peter relegated to the center cushion, and watched a benign movie as they finished the pizza. _Finding Nemo_, he couldn't think of any triggers it might have in Bucky, except maybe trigger some tears for the sad parts.

When Peter finally did fall asleep, it was with no surprise that it was fitfully; old nightmares of the last two months, cross-stitched together with Bucky's living nightmares, leaving Peter restrained in The Chair, Bucky, the Winter Soldier triggered, standing at blank-faced and eyed attention, Mr Stark, the Iron Man suit, the chest reactor light dark, the suit propped immobile, and Captain America, flipping the switch.

It was the shock of his Spidey-Sense going that made him wake with a choked gasp, skin sticky and pyjamas clinging to him with more than just sweat, than it was FRIDAY's worried calls of his name. He ran a shaky hand down his face as the room lights were raised.

"Little Boss?"

"I'm okay, FRIDAY, just a nightmare." Peter assured.

"Would you like me to call Boss?"

"No, no, th-that's okay, there's no need to disturb Mr Stark." Peter quickly declined, sitting up. The blanket clung to him instead of falling down and he was forced to peel it away, breaking the webbing fibers to escape the twisted material.

This didn't happen every night, just like he didn't experience nightmares every night. But when the nightmares were especially visceral, like tonight, new and terrifying, his Spidey-Senses triggered some sort of instinctual response and he would secrete sticky web fluid from his pours, as opposed to the web-slinging from the spinnerets at the inside of his wrists. It frightened him and he'd thought he was dying or something the first time he woke up, sticky silk covering his skin like some kind of fungus and he had to shower with a homemade essential oils solution to dissolve it to get it off and not clog the shower drain. When Aunt May saw him carrying the basket stuffed with his blanket, sheets, and pyjamas to take down to the building laundry room, she had this on her face and what did it say about his life that it was a relief when he determined from the quirky blurb she gave him that she just thought he had an accident while masturbating? As humiliating as it had been, he didn't want to know what her reaction would ever be if she found out he was Spider-Man.

Peter may have Spidey-Sense, but he could never predict when a web incident was going to happen, so he was forced to endure the awkward moments when Aunt May caught him trying to wash his sheets. There wouldn't be any stealth missions down to the laundry room here at Stark Tower, was there even a laundry room here, or did Mr Stark just send it out for dry cleaning? Peter gave his head a little shake and focused on his task, pulling the web from the blanket fibers that probably cost more than the total of his entire wardrobe. Thankfully, he hadn't been comfortable enough to just sleep in his boxers, so most of the silk had been contained beneath a pair of sleep bottoms and an oversized t-shirt so there was minimal damage. He would take more caution and wear a long sleeve to bed tomorrow night.

He carefully climbed from bed, grabbed the change of clothes from his duffle and the bottle of solution, and headed for the en suite shower. He dressed in jeans, t-shirt, and his typical zipper hoodie that he was planning to wear for the day and took up station on the chase lounge by the wall of windows that towered over Manhattan.

"How are Mr Stark and Sergeant Barnes doing, FRIDAY?" Peter asked, knees drawn to his chest. If this was his reaction, he could only imagine how Bucky and even Mr Stark were fairing to the experience. Peter didn't think that he had merit to claim these nightmares, not when it was Bucky's life, not when it was Mr Stark's.

"They are recovering from the days events," FRIDAY tried to soothe him in the only way she could without breaking the pair's privacy.

"I'm awake if they ask for me, FRIDAY." Peter told informed her, glancing to the ceiling. "If I can do anything to help. If they ask, tell them?"

"Will do, Little Boss."

Peter gave a little subdued smile at the term of endearment from the AI and turned his gaze back through the windows and the lighting dawn. His fingers tightened around the small, fingerless, worn kid's glove, a faint blue glow shining through the spaces in his fingers. He'd maintained the Iron Man repulsor toy glove for the past eight years, replacing the tiny blue LED light and button cells, he even still had the signed mask from that night. They were like a nightlight, or favoured teddy bear or preferred blankie from toddler hood. A comfort.

Peter had admired Tony Stark since before he'd even become Iron Man. Mr Stark was a prodigy, but he didn't just skate by on natural talent, he worked hard, he succeeded, he passed expectation. Peter had grown up with Captain America, in his history class, in his comic books, his other memorabilia, but Iron Man was his hero. He knew Mr Stark didn't know this, probably didn't even remember it with all that had happened that night, but Iron Man had saved Peter's life at the Stark Expo.

Mr Stark was Peter's role model, even if he hadn't told the man. Of course, even a superhero, he was still human and every human had an array of flaws, but Peter always thought that was what made people beautiful, the lack of perceived perfection. He found Mr Stark and Bucky blindingly beautiful.

Peter watched the sunrise glow across downtown Manhattan until FRIDAY informed him that it was time for breakfast. It was empty but for him and FRIDAY told him to eat whatever he liked, he asked after cereal. Peter peaked up at the selection, "Mr Stark likes _Cap'n Crunch_?"

"That was Agent Barton's preference," FRIDAY told him after a moment.

"Oh." Peter's fingertips drifted from it and he pulled down the purple box, opening the flaps and poured it into the bowl. "What's Mr Stark's favourite?"

"_Wild Berry_," there was fond amusement in her voice a blush tinged his cheeks a little as he put the purple box away. He sat at the large dining table and started to eat when Bucky wandered in, looking like he'd just come from a workout in a pair of jogging pant and a sleeveless shirt.

"Good Morning," Peter called.

"Mornin'," Bucky nodded and went to the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water to guzzle. Sun gleamed off the metal of his arm from the wall of glass.

Peter stared at his metal arm and the spoon missed his mouth. Bucky caught him staring. "S-sorry," he stuttered, wiping the milk from his chin. "I was staring, that was rude."

"I stare at it, too, sometimes." Bucky admitted quietly, metal fingers flexing. "HYDRA turned me into a weapon, this is their arm, not mine. It another part of myself they stole from me. I hate it. I want to tear it off my body most days." His grey eyes were pained and furious as he looked at the artificial limb, fist clenched and Peter could hear it grinding. "It's just a reminder of the monster they made me, covered in blood."

Peter didn't think, just reacted. His warm hand clasped over the fisted metal one. Bucky looked up at him, startled. "This arm is a part of you, from them, but it doesn't define who your are. I didn't ask to be bitten, to become Spider-Man and you didn't deserve what they did to you, but it's not something that we can change. You can't make them take it back, but you can make them regret it, beat them at their own game. Use what they made you against them like you did with the other Winter Soldiers. Use your knowledge and what they taught and turn it back against them." Peter didn't look away from the man's desperate, intense gaze. He didn't know what he was saying was any help, it was just what was in his heart, but he couldn't tear his gaze away even if he wanted to. "You can stop them from doing the same some thing to another innocent person. I know you feel guilty for the things they forced you to do, all you can do now let yourself have the chance." Bucky gulped. Peter didn't how or why but Bucky had latched onto him and Peter was going to do his best not fail.

Mr Stark slapped his hand down on top of Peter's curled around Bucky's metal fist. "Is this a thing now?" he ignored their unified stares. "Go Team!" he pumped their hands once before releasing them and wandering over to the coffee machine.

Peter looked back to Bucky with a splitting grin. "Go Team!" he pumped the metal fist before releasing it. "I like it."

Tony took a gulp of steaming coffee with a hum and claimed Peter's vacated chair. "You stealing my cereal, Cereal Bandit?" he set his coffee down, claimed the spoon too and took a big bite of Peter's cereal.

"Mr Stark," Peter said in surprise and turned a bit flustered. "I-I can get you another bowl, that's probably all soggy by now!"

Tony waved a dismissive hand at him, hunched over the bowl, alternating between his coffee and the cereal. "Pour yourself another bowl."

Peter stared at him for a moment before doing as instructed. "What kind do you want, Sergeant?"

Bucky blinked over at him. "We've been over this, kid."

"Right, um. What kind of cereal do you want, James?"

"You pick, I have no preference." He pulled out a chair across from Mr Stark.

"Oh," Peter gnawed on his bottom lip as he turned back the selection and finally settled on the classic, _Cinnamon Toast Crunch_.

He set the bowl and carton of milk in front of Bucky and sat next to him with his own fresh bowl of _Wild Berry_. He watched Bucky from the corner of his eye as he ate, waiting to see of the approved of the choice. Peter was practically bouncing in his seat as Bucky took a bite.

"Put him out of his misery, Barnes, before he falls outta the chair." Tony said.

Bucky looked at Peter and nodded his approval.

He grinned. "The commercials are a little disturbing, but the cereal's good, it makes the milk taste really good." Peter told him.

Tony snorted quietly as he pushed his empty bowl away, leaned back and stretched his arms overhead. "Disturbing is definitely one word I'd use for cereal cannibalism."

"Cereal cannibalism?" Bucky looked between them confused.

"FRIDAY, pull up the commercial, would you?" Mr Stark requested, digging out his Stark phone.

"Sure, Boss." Tony held up the phone and displayed a blow up of the screen in hologram. Bucky watched the displayed of the two pieces of cereal licking each other before one proceeded to eat its friend. Bucky looked down into his bowl with a vaguely disturbed frown. Peter pursed his lips to stop from laughing but Mr Stark had no such qualms.

Mr Stark wiped laughter-tears from his eyes. "When you're finished breakfast, come to the lab." He refilled his mug before departing the common area kitchen.

"We can trade if you want?" Peter offered, indicating the bowls.

Bucky shook his head. "Cereal cannibalism will make everything else in my day appear benign," he dug in.

**#**  
**"My dad never really gave me a lot of support... and I'm just trying to break the cycle of shame."**  
**#**

"Pete, hang back." Mr Stark called, stopping Peter from following a introverted Bucky from the lab after the BARF session.

"Mr Stark?" Peter slowly retraced his steps back to the genius, albeit a little nervously.

Tony left the BARF station, the glasses docked and data running on a monitor. He put a hand on Peter's shoulder and led him to the other side of the lab. "Your Hot Aunt May is back tonight and Happy'll drive you home, but before all that, I wanted to get some samples and scans from you." He pushed him down onto a stool.

Peter looked at the equipment around him that looked more biology framed than mechanical. He clasped his hands anxiously in his lap. "Samples and scans? I-I don't know, Mr Stark. That-that all sounds pretty-"

"The Spidey Suit you have is just a prototype, it was a rush job. If I'm gonna keep you properly equipped, I need more stats than what me and FRIDAY got from the videos on _YouTube_." He sorted through some equipment before picking up a specimen container and held it up to him like a target. "Hit me with some web."

Peter tugged on his sleeve cuffs self-consciously. "My web-shooters are in my room."

"I don't mean the artificial web, I'm talking about your organic web."

Peter tensed, wide-eyed. He gulped. "What?"

Tony looked at him and lowered the container. "Don't looked so spooked, Peter. I shouldn't have ambushed you with it like that, it's supposed to be a secret, right?" he pulled up a stool across from the teen. "I remember what it was like being a teenager—god, that makes me sound old," he made a face at himself, "But add all that to becoming Spider-Man, with no one to talk, it must be downright scary. I may not have any cool spider-powers like you, but you can talk to me. You have nothing to be ashamed about, Peter."

Peter felt heat in his face with embarrassment, but a pleasing warmth radiated in his chest. "H-how did you know? Did-did FRIDAY-?"

"I would never go against your wishes unless it concerned your safety, Little Boss." FRIDAY promised him.

Mr Stark's eyebrow nearly rose to his hairline. "Excuse you, 'Little Boss'? What's this now, trying to takeover already?"

"N-no! No way, I would never do that, Mr Stark!" Peter exclaimed in denial, waving his hands frantically, half out of his seat. "FRIDAY just calls me that, but she can stop."

"Sorry, Little Boss." FRIDAY said, "But that's a request I cannot follow."

"Easy," Tony chuckled, warm hand on his shoulder pushing him back down. "My Girl FRIDAY already gave you a name, I guess I have to keep you now." He teased. "But I'm not calling you 'Little Boss', I'm really rather partial to 'Underoos'."

Peter sighed in relief, slumping down under the warm weight of his mentor's hand. "How did you know?"

"You weren't very subtle about it when we first met, webbing me to the door." Mr Stark pointed out wryly.

"I panicked!" he protested. "I hoped you wouldn't realize I wasn't wearing my shooters." He mumbled.

"I didn't." Peter blinked at him in confusion. "Not until you were getting me out of it and I didn't see a shooter on your wrist."

Peter tugged his cuffs over his hands self-consciously. He could barely remember a time when he wore a t-shirt and didn't wear a hoodie over it. It made him feel less vulnerable, plus it had the added effect of hiding his web-shooters when he wore them. In gym, he covered his wrists with sweatbands. It wasn't some huge deformity, but it left him feeling self-conscious anyway.

"Can I see?" Tony asked gently, holding his hands out, palms up. "I won't laugh or judge you, I know what it's like to be different—and more awesome—than everyone else." He gave him a wink.

Peter swallowed and pushed his hands free of his sleeves, laying them face-up in Mr Stark's waiting hands. He was wracked with nerves but Mr Stark's strong, calloused fingers were firm yet gentle, his thumb pressing across the heel of his right palm, bending his wrist slightly as he examined his wrist and Peter may have shot some web onto his graphic long sleeve.

Peter stuttered in horrified humiliation. "Mr Stark, I'm so sorry! I didn't me-"

Tony rebuffed his apology, waving it off. "Does that always happen? You curl your middle and ring finger to your palm, right?"

Peter both nodded and shook his head. "To trigger my web-shooters, and-and I thought it was a cool and unique superhero move particular to Spider-Man."

"It is,"

Peter flushed a little. "And, and then it just because instinctual as a trigger f-for my organic webs, a focus. Sometimes, it's automatic, like screaming when you get scared?" his eyes flickered and he thought about his nightmares. "My body just reacts to outside stimuli. My Spidey-Sense, I don't know when or where or why it will go off, sometimes it's just like a static tingle, like your hair standing on end, and other times it's-it's like a concussive grenade going off in my head and my body just _reacts_. You know?"

"You have a sixth sense," Mr Stark murmured, "That's incredible."

"I call it my Spidey-Sense, but-but, you can call it that, too. It warns me about danger, I'm still trying to hone it better, get a better _sense_ of where the actually danger is come from, stuff like that. I'm using my patrols to train."

"That's good, Pete. Web me?" Tony held up the specimen container and Peter filled it with web with his free hand.

"I use the artificial web because excessive use—like swinging around Queens—with _my_ web takes a lot out of me and the last thing I want to do is faint while doing that or in a confrontation with a criminal. And-and, my artificial web-fluid, it dissolves by itself in about two hours, but mine kinda sticks around for a really, really long time so I made a solution to help dissolve it. It comes in handy when I, um..." he trailed off uncomfortable, gaze dropping to Mr Stark's chest.

Tony glanced down at himself, at the patch of webbing on his shirt. "When you have an accident," he filled in, looking back up at the teen. "How often exactly does that happen?"

"Not-not often, just... sometimes I h-have nightmares and my Spidey-Senses goes a bit haywire, and, um... I wake up covered in web?" he rubbed the back of his neck in shame.

"Nightmares," Mr Stark muttered, his eyes flashing. "I knew bringing you to Berlin was going to bite me in the ass, I just didn't think it was going to come out as this. And now? Giving you a front row seat to the horrors in Barnes' head with a bucket of buttered popcorn, not thinking it would affect you when it's giving _me_ nightmares, brining back old terrors." Tony shook his head rapidly, shoving rough fingers into his curls, disgusted with himself.

"I can handle it, Mr Stark!" Peter pleaded. "Please, I can. Don't make James turn me away. He trusts me, I can't let him down. I don't want to let you down." He finished quietly. "I know I don't have any right to have nightmares, not with what you and Sergeant Barnes have _actually_ been through. I-I mean, what's so scary about Captain America dropping a shipping container on me?" his eyes were watery. "That's- that's not even- I didn't even get hurt or anything and it's so stupid-"

"_Damn you, Rogers_!" Tony hissed venomously, making Peter flinch a little. "Peter, listen to me," he grabbed his shoulders firmly. "Don't apologize, okay. Don't you ever apologize for being afraid, do you hear me? Your fear, your nightmares are just as legitimate as mine or Barnes'. Don't dismiss your feelings as unimportant, because they are important, Peter, do you understand?" Tony gave him a little shake. "Your feelings, your wellbeing, all of it, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise." He pulled Peter to his chest. "Huh? I can't hear you."

"Y-yeah," Peter agreed, cheek pressed to his collar bone, eye pressed closed, relishing the embrace, absorbing the comfort like a sponge, Mr Stark's warmth, strength, scent, all of it. Oil, traces of cologne, coffee. "Are you going to send me away?"

"You still have to go home tonight," Tony told him, "But no, I'm not sending you away, okay?" he gently broke the embrace, catching Peter's eyes, making sure he understood.

Peter nodded, his smile slightly tremulous, but genuine and happy. "What else do you need?" he asked. "You know, for science?"

Mr Stark grinned. "Your potential is showing, kid, and I very much approve." Peter could have squirmed for all the praise he was getting and didn't even think twice about it when asked to removed his hoodie. "Not a big fan of needles myself," Mr Stark admitted, poking him with a needle to draw some blood. "This is more Brucie-bear's area of expertise, but if he didn't want me sciencing around in his lab, than he shouldn't have flown off to places unknown."

Peter stared at him, mouth slightly agape. "Do you mean Dr Banner? You call the man who becomes the Hulk... _'Brucie-bear'?" _he whispered the name in fear of said man somehow coming to hear it, gaze darting around.

He smirked. "Brucie-bear, Green Bean, Jolly Green Giant, Smashikins," Tony shrugged and plucked a few strands of hair.

"Ow," Peter mumbled.

Tony absently patted his head in a comforting response. "He loves my nicknames, so does the Big Guy, total cuddle monster. Girl Scout's Honour."

Peter cleared his throat in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think you mean the gender equivalent." He pointed out.

"What makes you the expert, wise guy? I happen to be a big fan of the Girl Scouts. Girl Power and all that."

"Don't you mean Girl Scout Cookies, Boss?" FRIDAY piped up coyly.

"Hush, you."

Peter's mouth quirked. "I have a Girl Scout in my building."

"That means you get first crack at the Cookies!" Tony gasp enviously, proving FRIDAY's observation. "Next time you have to get me boxes, Peter. Thin Mints, Somoas, Tagalongs, Thanks-A-Lot, Trefoils, Do-Si-Dos, Toffee-Tastic, all of them, Pete. I'll give you money before you leave, but don't let Pepper see," Mr Stark hastened to add. "She doesn't like me eating good, honest food. It's a conspiracy against me."

Peter chuckled. "Alright, Mr Stark, but I don't think I quite believe you about Dr Banner, you were never in the Scouts, either Boys or Girls."

"You wound me!" he lifted a clutching hand to his chest, faux wounded at the distrust. "Just borrowing the principal of the organization, don't write me up, Spider-Man." He winked.

Peter couldn't be sure how much had passed before he found himself barefoot on the high ceiling in the lab, an easy jump and half-flip for him, just to show Mr Stark how awesome it was _and_ natural when there was a throat cleared. Both heroes turned to look at the source like they'd been caught fooling around by a parent while they were really supposed to be doing homework.

"Whatever this looks like, you're wrong." Tony said, pointing. And Peter dropped down silently and agilely from the ceiling down beside Mr Stark, a flush to his cheeks.

Bucky's expression was an unreadable mask, but there was a lightness in his grey eyes. "I ate cannibalistic cereal this morning," Bucky told them. "So, this doesn't even register on my radar today. FRIDAY says it's dinner time."

They left the lab to the common area, FRIDAY having ordered them takeaway ("It's a good thing I'm a billionaire, otherwise, with the two of you freeloaders, I'd be eaten out of house and home.") and they settled on the couch to watch a movie as they ate as became their routine over the weekend. Mr Stark thought it was funny to choose _Charlotte's Web_ to watch on Peter's last night at the Tower. Peter didn't even put his hoodie back on until it was time for him to leave. Mr Stark and Bucky rode down with him in the elevator.

"Thank you for letting me stay over, Mr Stark." Peter hugged the man, face pressed into his chest.

"Sure, kid." Tony shot a side-eye at Bucky, who was politely not staring. Tony didn't even think the Spiderling realized exactly what he was doing, whenever he hugged, he nestled right at the dip in Tony's chest, right where the Arc Reactor used to be housed. It still gave him panic attacks sometimes when someone touched him there without warning, sometimes not even then—but Peter never even made him twitchy.

When Peter stepped back, it was to shoot a shy look at Bucky. "Ser-James?" he asked and Bucky looked down at him. "I- Can I give you a hug?"

Bucky was silent so long that Peter was sure the answer would be 'no' and he wondered if he could get away with retreating back to Mr Stark, but to Peter's pleased surprise, and honour, Bucky gave a somewhat jerky nod in response. With respect, Peter was more cautious than he ever was with Mr Stark (who he typically flung himself at without restraint and maybe even regard), giving the Winter Soldier a soft smile. He pressed himself against the man's muscled chest, arms cautiously wrapping around his waist, not wanting to feel like he was restraining him. Bucky's frame was tense.

"I'm glad you asked for help, James." Peter murmured softly. "No one deserves to go through this alone."

Peter was finally about to step back when Bucky moved carefully, like he didn't want to scare Peter away, flesh-and-blood arm around his back, metal hand cupping the back of his head like it was a delicate, precious thing. He was stiff still, until Peter sighed quietly and tightened his arms around him, nuzzling slightly and the Soldier melted. Tony was under no compunction himself not to stare and he adamantly was not jealous.

Peter wondered when the last time Bucky was hugged. Did Captain America hug him when he found Bucky in Bucharest? Would Bucky had even let him, in hiding, on the run, Steve practically a stranger? Peter was saddened to believe the answer 'no'. He subconsciously tightened his hold. He couldn't imagine what that must be like. His parents had always been so open with their affection for him, so were Aunt May and Uncle Ben. May still, with warm hugs and loving kisses pressed to his forehead. Everyone deserved that, it was why he was so open with it to Mr Stark and now Bucky.

When they finally separated, FRIDAY opened the elevator doors to the same private parking garage under the Tower, the town car waiting and Happy with it. "Goodbye, Peter."

"I'll talk to you later, FRIDAY." Peter picked up his bags and stepped out of the car.

"Don't forget to give Happy one, too. He loves 'em!" Mr Stark called after him in jest. "He starting to feel left out."

Peter froze and looked at Happy with wide eyes.

Happy pointed at him with his trademark scowl. "Whatever you're thinking about doing, don't."

"I wasn't thinking anything!" Peter squeaked, holding up his hands innocently, shaking his head rapidly.

"Get in the car," the driver and head of security ordered, sliding behind the wheel.

"Yes, sir." Peter scurried over, Mr Stark's cackling, and even Bucky's rusty chuckle following him until it was cut off as he flung himself into the backseat, the door slamming closed. He had to fight his smile at Happy's narrowed eyes in the rear-view.

**#**  
**"Hey, guys. The illegal weapons-deal ferry was at 10:30. You missed it."**  
**# **

Peter's Spidey-Sense had been tingling constantly as he curled up in his chosen seat on the observation deck and the ferry had left the dock. The ferry was typically a relaxing and nostalgic venture, he used to take trips frequently as a kid with his parents.

Despite having quit marching band, robotics club, the academic decathlon and debate teams, Peter was still kept pretty busy but instead of his nights being ruled by Spider-Man Night Patrol, he only donned the Spidey Suit to swing over to Manhattan to Stark Tower. Either to continue his own sessions with Mr Stark testing and scaling his Spidey powers and abilities, or be there for Bucky's on-going BARF sessions or after for emotional support. Sometimes, not even for that. BARF was a process and couldn't be pushed, so Bucky had free days, Peter would hangout with him on those days and show him modern day marvels. It was still all no less exhausting than the past two months, so Peter gave himself the occasional free day, too.

Peter stood, mumbling sorry as he stumbled over peoples feet and went down the steps onto the lower deck, hoping the fresh air would help. He leaned against the railing, cell phone to his ear; lately FRIDAY had been patching him straight through to Mr Stark if he wasn't in meetings or otherwise busy instead of relegating him to a grumpy Happy.

"Mr Stark, I'm sorry. I-"

"What is it, kid?" Mr Stark sounded distracted.

"Um, I-I don't know." Peter scrubbed a hand through his hair, his temples throbbing as his Spidey-Sense continued to prevail. "My Spidey-Sense, it's been going off constantly, and I don't, I don't know w-"

"Where are you?" he demanded.

Peter hunched his shoulders, feeling like he was about to get into trouble. "I was just trying to relax, Mr Stark, I don't-"

"Peter."

"The Staten Island Ferry. I-"

Mr Stark cursed. "Stay there. Don't move."

Peter couldn't help the perplexed frown as he looked out into the surrounding water of the Upper Bay. "I don't think I can go anywhere, Mr Stark."

"Don't be a smartass!" he snapped before taking a deep breath. "Listen to me, Pete. Whatever happens, don't get involved. You hear me, Peter?"

"Mr Stark, what going on?" Peter mumbled in confusion. "I don't- Ah!" his cell phone clattered to the deck as he threw himself to the side, almost going over the railing as a scorch mark laid where he stood just a second before. Heart beating wildly in his chest, he looked around frantically for the cause, only to scramble to cover behind the bumper of a mini van instead of retrieving his phone, as gunshots—_gunshots_—sounded. Each shot made his Spidey-Sense flare.

He carefully peeked out. There was some sort of stand-off, he saw the bold white letters 'FBI' on a windbreaker, a purple blast of energy from some kind of modified weapons from what could only be the bad guys. A tan sedan flipped as it was hit with the purple blast. "Watch out!" Peter cried out, arm flying forward, web shooting out and snagging onto the FBI agent in the path. He yanked as the car crashed down, saving the woman from being crushed. Purple energy tore the roof off the mini van he was hiding behind. This was insane! This was-

Peter snagged the scuffed hockey mask sitting among the windshield glass of the vans hood, slipping in on. He threw his hood up and tightened the drawstrings. He didn't have his shooters, he didn't have his suit, but these were regular people against a larger group with alien modified weapons! He was Spider-Man, he couldn't just sit by. So, he reacted, he webbed into the fray of bullets, not thinking about Mr Stark's warning to stay out of it.

It was calm within a couple of minutes, the FBI taking the criminal into custody. He thought his Spidey-Sense would finally turn off now that the danger was over as he tried to inconspicuously sneak off as the agents were busy trying to get their prisoners out of the web and into cuffs—when the concussive grenade grade warning went through him and his dropped to the deck was more of a disoriented stumble than a decisive move as the side of the van he was beside tore open with a horrendous scream of metal.

Peter scrambled back towards the agents as this man emerged from the van with the huge, mechanical wings. He looked a terrible monsters with glowing green eyes in the shadowed, confined space of the onboard parking. He came out blasting them with another purple energy weapon. They all dove out of his path as the flew towards them and into the open and Peter saw the full scope of his wings. They were huge, gangly, and terrifying, nothing like how awesome and sleek Falcon's wings were. The were the visage of a vulture.

Peter tried to web him up, anchor him, stop him from escaping. The FBI opened fired but it was like his wings reflected all their shots. It didn't matter that Peter was able to get his modified weapon when it crashed to the deck and started to malfunction as the Vulture got away ("_You're in over your head")_. Peter had tried to overwhelm it with web like he had Redwing back in Leipzig, but they were two completely different kinds of machinery. It went haywire, overloading. Fractured purple beams of energy burnt through the webbing. His Spidey-Sense never quieted, not even when the weapon burnt out its energy source as jets of water starting shooting up the through deck. Metal popped and groaned, passengers started screaming as the ferry started to split in half, water heaving in. The ferry was sinking and it was Spider-Man's fault!

Peter zig-zagged across the yawning gape between both sides. Web, web, web crisscrossing across the opening, trying to keep together a gapping wound with silly string, the strands snapping from the heated metal. He was lagging, the exhaustion at expending so much of his organic web, but he couldn't stop, he couldn't slow. It looked like a puss-filled wound, filled with silk and he was the spider tangled in his own web, trying to hold the ends together.

He could feel the strain through the strands of silk around him, the feel of the thrumming vibrations almost like a live nerve on his senses. Sweat behind the hockey mask blinded him. He screamed through the strain, the pain, as his own webs threatened to tear him apart. He struggled to hold together the thing he broke apart. Mr Stark was coming, he had to be. Iron Man would save them, that was what he did. Peter just needed to hold out until then. Mr Stark would come. He would.

He needed to fight against his Spidey-Sense that throbbed through his being like a sickening heartbeat, the black spot in his tinted glasses as his muscles tore. But he couldn't, he couldn't do it. He wasn't strong enough, he wasn't. A broken sob left his throat and Peter didn't know if it was sweat or tears hidden behind his mask that blinded him anymore. Didn't know if it was of terrible relief as he felt the release of his webs or at his failure because he wasn't fast enough, strong enough, smart enough.

It was just a dream that he heard the modulated voice of Iron Man call out "Spider-Man!", just a fantasy as he collapsed into the embrace and safety of metal arms when in reality, he fell into cold, lonely darkness.

He killed them. He killed them all!

**# "What if somebody died tonight? Different story, right? **  
**Because that's on you. And if you died... I feel like that's on me." #**

Peter jolted away with a cry, tears wetting his pale cheeks, patches of webbing on his sweaty skin before he fell back with a pained whimper.

"Peter," the soft Irish dulcet tone did nothing to soothe him as he shook his head rapidly on the damp pillow.

"No no no no no..." he pressed shaky fists to his eyes.

His Spidey-Sense didn't tingle as the bed dipped, but he lashed out with a cry anyway as he felt the tentative touch. Arms wrapped arm him, held fast against a warm chest.

"Peter, Peter. It's James," Bucky muttered desperately into his sweaty, sticky hair, metal palm cupping the back of his head as Peter cried, moaned and kept apologizing. "You're okay, you're safe." He rocked them gently for lack of a better idea, hoping the motion would be soothing. "FRIDAY, where the hell is Stark?!" Bucky growled at the AI.

"Boss is coming."

Peter was mostly quiet by the time Tony arrived, but Bucky continued to rock him. Tony only paused for half an instant when he came through the door before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. His hand was gently and warm on the curled, shaking back. "Alright, Peter. Come on, out of there."

Peter sniffled and Bucky resisted the urge to tighten his arms as the kid extracted himself, head bowed. "I'm so sorry, Mr Stark." Peter curled in on himself, trembling. "You-you told me to s-stay out of it and I- I- I got them all killed!" Tony and Bucky were completely stunned by the declaration as fresh tears started down his splotchy cheeks. "I g-got-"

"Ho ho ho! First, let's get one thing clear," Tony's tone stopped him short. "You didn't kill anyone, no one is dead."

Tony's heart broke when Peter finally looked up at him, shaking his head. "I tried to keep the ferry together, but my webs kept snapping, I wasn't strong enough, or f-fast enough-!"

Tony pulled him against his side. "FRI, pull up current news bulletins." He ordered. A hologram appeared in front of the bed, news footage screening of a bird's-eye-view of the Upper Bay, Coast Guard surrounding the ferry.

_"...Five suspects in FBI custody after a weapons deal bust earlier today on the Staten Island Ferry. Alien enhanced weaponry recovered. One suspect escaped, considered armed and extremely dangerous. FBI thankful for Spider-Man's assistance in the apprehension of suspects..."_

_"...Spider-Man keeps ferry afloat as Coast Guard rush to rescue..."_

_"...Spider-Man kept ferry passengers safe, Iron Man swoops in for the save. Only minor injuries and a bunch of grateful folks to be had..."_

Tony waved his hand and the images vanished.

"Everyone's okay?" Peter asked tentatively.

Tony nodded. "They mostly got wet, maybe some bruises. Most of the injures came from the bad guys and those were all just minor." _And deserved. _He promised.

"You saved them." Peter said with relief.

"No, Peter," he said and Peter's expression fell. "You did-"

"No!" Peter shook his head. "I almost got everyone killed! You told me to stay out of it and I didn't listen. I got in the middle where I had no place being, I was in the way, I almost got every killed. It was my fault the ferry was sinking, I did that." He whispered.

"You saved an FBI agent from getting crushed by a car, Peter. I talked to her myself, she was the team leader. She's married, been for, for 12 years. She's got three kids, Pete, and she gets to go home to them because you 'jumped in the middle where you didn't belong'. If you hadn't done that, then there would be four people that we know of that would be mourning someone they love right now." Tony laid a hand on Peter's chest. "You did that." Peter gulp, unable to look away from Mr Stark's impassioned eyes. "When that boat split and started to sink, you were willing to literally rip yourself apart to keep it together. If I had gotten there a minute later, I'm afraid that's really what I would have come across, and that's not acceptable, Peter, you get me?" his hand fisted the lose material of the MIT sweatshirt Tony had put on Peter after he brought him to the Tower.

"I'm sorry," Peter croaked.

"I'm sorry, too, kid." Tony murmured with a sigh. "None of that should of happened, it was my fault."

"No, no." Peter denied, grasping his forearm. "You saved us, Mr Stark."

"That sweet, but I'm the one who called the FBI, I put them onto those alien modified weapons because I didn't think it was Avengers worthy, because I was busy with more 'important shit' than to deal with something so low level. That guy with the wings was not a variable I saw. But after what happened today," he growled, "I'm working the FBI on this, with FRIDAY, of course, and this Vulture's expectancy is already on a rapidly declining timer. No one hurts my Spider-Kid and terrorizes civilians in my city and just get to fly away."

"Damn right, Boss." FRIDAY agreed.

Peter felt grateful and relieved (Vulture was no match against Iron Man and FRIDAY). "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, Mr Stark." He whispered in shame.

"Yes, that's thing number two," Mr Stark told him. "I'm angry you didn't listen to me, Peter, that was our deal." Peter cringed, because it was. "You didn't have the Suit, you didn't have your web shooters... You just flung yourself into that mess as Peter Parker." Tony sighed. "But I'm also proud."

Peter blinked at him. "What?"

"You heard me. You were a hero today, Peter. The Suit doesn't do that, squirt, this, here," he gently tapped Peter's temple, "And this," he patted Peter's chest over his heart, "That is what a hero is. Acting despite your fear, helping those who can't help themselves. Using your abilities to do something good. Avenger-in-the-making material." Peter blinked at him in astonishment and gulped. "And finally, number three," Mr Stark said. "No more Friendly Neighbourhood Nightly Patrols."

"B-"

"I don't wanna hear it! No more Patrols, Peter. Not for a little while, until we finish assessing the limits of your Spidey Abilities. In the meantime, you'll train with your new Sensei here," Tony reached over and patted Bucky, who seemed surprised at the announcement, but covered it quickly as Peter looked at him in his own surprise. "Right, Buckaroo?"

Bucky gave a slow nod of acceptance, meeting Tony's gaze. "Yes." He rose from the bed.

"And to finish it off, you're rejoining all those clubs at school you quit. What was it, band, chess...?"

"Marching Band, Robotics Club, Academic Decathlon and Debate Teams." Peter supplied.

Mr Stark gave a low whistle. "Yeah, all those. Your grades slip and Spider-Man is finished, got it? _That _is not up for debate. No more screwing around, your future's too bright for that, kid."

Peter nodded, relaxed against his side, the occasional tremor still wracking his body as it knitted together with his healing factor. "I understand, Mr Stark." He murmured quietly.

"Good. I called Aunt May, convinced her to let you stay the night, she doesn't need to see you like this," and much to Peter's embarrassment, pulled a small patch of webbing from behind his ear.

"Th-that's..." he stammered, but not knowing how to explain. He's used a lot of energy, a lot of organic web on the ferry, he must have been scraping the bottom of the barrel with his nightmare so he didn't 'web-out', which he was thankful for as Bucky had been watching over him and he realized with a flush that he was wearing Mr Stark's old MIT sweatshirt.

"So, go hop in the shower and then come down to the common area for dinner." Tony told him.

"Thank you, Mr Stark." Peter hugged him, face pressed it his chest. Tony squeezed his flank before patting him carefully. Peter stood, but before he went into the en suite, hands buried into the sweater sleeves and hugging himself a bit, he looked from Mr Stark to Bucky. "Thank you, James." He murmured. "A-and I'm sorry if I h-hit you before."

"You didn't," Bucky said. "I would have deserved if you did though, for surprising you like that. I should know better,"

Peter shook his head. "You were just trying to help me, so, thank you." He gulped. "I usually have to deal with it on my own."

"Alright, Spiderling, you can hug Barnes later," Tony teased. "Now, go shower," he waved him, not unkindly, away. "Actually, you might want to get your hugs in now, I have a feeling you won't be so forthcoming after Sensei here puts you on your ass for the tenth time in a row." He mused, leaning back on his hands propped on the bed.

Peter crossed his arms, affronted. "I took down the Winter Soldier before!"

Tony slid a sly glance towards the soldier. "And I have my own tingling Spidey-Sense that the Winter Soldier didn't put up much of a fight as he could have at the airport."

Bucky's expression gave nothing away as he gazed back at Mr Stark, but Peter found that perhaps his silence did. Peter stared at the metal-armed man. His pride wasn't as wounded as he thought it would be at the admission, instead, it bloomed toward Bucky that he allowed himself to be taken into custody, saving them from another Bucharest repeat.

"Look at you," Mr Stark nodded at Peter, a grin stretched across his face, "Like a proud mama bear at her cub!"

"What?" Peter floundered. "Am not!" heat flushing his face at he glanced back at Bucky, mortified. But the spark in Bucky's eyes made him happy. It was pleasant to provide something in Bucky's life that wasn't painful.

"Go, young buck," Mr Stark shooed him. "Shower thy self before you pass out and I have to tuck your unconscious, skinny little ass into bed again."

"Mr Stark!" he whined in protest. He pouted as he was met with the mechanic's laughter, but it wasn't mocking, it was never mocking. And when he turned to go down the hall to the en suite, the little smirk at the corner of Bucky's lips was a beautiful accent to Mr Stark's laughter.

**# "Why don't you try that on and I'll introduce the world to the newest official member of the Avengers**—**The** **Spider-Man." #**

* * *

**There you go, that's it. Tell me what you think (*hides back under the desk clutching a teddy bear*). Bucky actually was a surprise addition to the story, and I'm glad I rolled with it. I really wanted to add Sam, too, but couldn't really figure out how to do it. I would totally watch a Wing-Off between Falcon and Vulture, that would be awesome. I will just say, this is the end of this series, I am not touching Infinity War with a ten foot pole, I'm telling you now, so sorry if you were looking for this to be a trilogy. **

**Thanks for reading!**


End file.
